Childhood lost
by Paineverlasting
Summary: Summary inside. Callen Past. Sorry if it sucks. Rated T because I'm not sure if it SHOULD be rated M. Tell me what you think.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Ok, so I have decided that the discussion forms are evil. I have been having this little thing in my head turn into an even bigger thing and then I read a certain post (I am think about PMing her simply to tell her how MEAN of a post this was) which simply made my idea roar and beg to be let out. And the post was this: "…And G is pretty sweet too. I wonder what his background is, though."

Yeah, mean. Because now I know that if I don't start writing it down and posting it I will never get any sleep. Evil.

Hope this is good though. Warning of child abuse, since we're talking G's past here. Rated T simply because I don't think that it's M worthy. Also, I have no clue if this will be a one shot or what. I've got a bunny that keeps popping in at unexpected times, so hopefully not.

Here goes nothing!!

The house is silent again, though he doesn't trust that silence. His foster father could be asleep, but he might not be. The little boy with blue eyes, who looked like he hadn't had a shower in weeks, with hair that might have been a dirty blond if it were only clean, had learned long ago to never trust the silence in any home.

Sitting in a dark closet, part of him screamed for him to turn on the light so that he could see, so that he could know that there was no monster there. But as he wasn't sure if there really was a monster in the dark, he knew that there was a monster out there, one that would hurt him worse than anything in there with him if it knew where he was hiding, and that monster was his foster father.

He missed the old days when the only reason he moved from home to home was because they ran out of room, or they simply did not want him anymore. One woman had wanted him, he remembered, but she couldn't adopt him because she had gotten sick. Maybe it had been his fault, he didn't know.

After the last couple of homes, ones where the belt was used, he learned to sleep in closets, even if the beds were fine, and if nothing else they where good to sleep under.

But for now, he would stay in the closet, in the safe dark, and no one would be able to put their hands on him and hurt him.

He woke up to someone picking him up and smoothing out his hair. He moved his arms to protect his body and the woman caring him sighed.

"It's alright Mr. Callen. I've come to take you to another home. One where you will get to eat."

"Are you sure?" the little boy asked. He was afraid of new places, he had just gotten used to this one.

"Yes." She said, smiling. "I am sure."

And she was no liar. The next home feed him, but they did not want a child who was afraid to be touched, who was so deathly silent, who slept under the bed or in the closet. One who never seemed to smile.

He stopped trusting people by age six. At age seven he realized two things: There was no Santa who tried to make children happy, and there was never going to be a family who wanted him. Sure, he would behave. He wanted to eat after all, but beyond that, there was nothing more that he expected from any of them.

Please press the button!! Even if it it one of two words: 'Sucked' or 'Good'. More words would be nice, but just to make me happy.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm almost not sure whether or not to rate this M, but there is no… details. Not really. Anyway, people have been begging me for another chapter and while I was drifting the FF this suddenly came to me.

Thanks to all who reviewed! Hope this keeps up with the last one! If not… I tried. Anyway, tell me what you think- no flames, but remember: there is a nice way to tell people their writing sucks. Pain.

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There was something about being a no-name that intrigued some people; it was something that seemed to make him more of a target at times and at others just that much easier to blend in.

It also gave a good enough reason to try and continue his 'No sleeping in beds' rule. Sometimes, though… sometimes, you were fucked.

When G was 12, he lived in a house for a grand total of three days. The closets were stuffed, as were under the beds, and the only good thing about it was that he didn't have to change schools. Their oldest boy came into the room, waking him up by simply opening the door. G sat up, and it almost made the kid go back to his room. Almost.

He was a foot ball player, and he was strong, and… and…

The only thing G remembered about him in his adult life was that he smelled like rubber and cheap soap. If he saw him on the street, he would jump out of his skin. Luckily, the football player was killed by another kid a few years later- one who slept with a box cutter for a reason.

G had been thinking up reasons until he was 16, were he learned that sometimes, they was no reason at all for the things that happens to kids. Sometimes, there is no reason for the foster homes to be worse than war zones- a war zone with a mask, trying to hide the blood and tears that it caused. That was when he started to really think about life after the foster homes, and he knew without a doubt what he was going to do by the time he was 17. He found someone who could give him permission to join the Marines, and saw real war zones- ones that he could live with, ones who should their true faces for the world to see.

When he left the house, he gave his thought on it to his social worker and told her what he always told her about the bad ones- "Don't send anyone else there."

She- and the others before her- had learned not to question it. He gave no details, he gave no why, but you could trust him when it came to the homes. That's what he was good for, and no one really remembered their first no name anyway.

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Alright, so, I pretty much kept with the last chapter. In case anyone was wondering why under the beds were full, it's because a little while ago we got boxes that were made to go under the bed. I figured he was scared to touch their stuff and didn't want to get caught moving it, so...

Anyway, tell me what you guys think. I figured it goes with what sometimes happens in homes, and well... yeah.

Again, one of two words will be fine if you don't feel like writing a lot- 'good' or 'sucked'. More words are welcomed!! I love all of the other reviews I've gotten, btw. Sorry if I didn't reply to them, but I wasn't sure myself if I actually would write more for this.

Anyway, best wishes, Pain.


	3. Chapter 3

He looked down at his little sister and almost started crying- almost. Instead he smiled and squeezed her shoulder a little. She had cried as he tried to explain to her how she was going to go and live with her father's sister… and he wasn't coming along. He hoped beyond hope for she would remember him… or forget him. He wasn't sure which he wanted, only knowing that he only wanted what would make her happy.

He had met the couple once for her Birthday, and liked them as they were a lot like his foster parents now… or as they were. He had had no desire to leave, and he knew it was safe because of that little girl. Because she was always smiling, always laughing.

He missed that laugh already.

She whimpered and asked who was going to let her stay with them if the sky was being grumpy again, and he could only look to her Aunt and Uncle and give the best answer he could- 'They will.'

If he hadn't of known of them, if there had been no one to take her in, he would have picked her up and started running. She was too innocent for foster homes, to happy, and there would have been no way in hell that he would have left her in one of those places.

He hugged her and promised her that she would always be his little sister, he thanked her for teaching him Russian and for making him smile, and most importantly, he thanked her for trusting him with her nightmares and fears.

And as he got into his car and she stayed on the porch with her Aunt and Uncle and their children, he wanted to take her with him again, wanted to pick her up and run as far away for the world that he was being forced into again as possible.

But she had smiled as she was crying-again, he had just gotten her to stop- and was waving goodbye to him, and he did the same for her, even feeling a few tears make it past his walls.

When they got to one of the in-between homes, as he thought of them, he was quieter then he had been in three months. For the next year there would not be a hint of a smile, there would be no will to fight, and for a few weeks there he had almost lost his will to live.

But life must move on, and it helped that a little boy who only spoke Russian came in after his parents were accused of child abuse. He helped everyone out and translated, and soon the kid was living with his grandfather. He had written him a thank you note a few months after, and G made sure he memorized it before he lost it, and he did….and it helped, though he never lost the reminder.

Years later that boy would grow up to be a teacher, than a principal, and would help dozens of kids find better lives. G never found out, and he never will- all he ever needed anyway was that little boy looking happy simply because G was there.

A/N: I wrote this a while ago and then forgot it during the summer (during which time I pretty much stayed away from doing a lot of things FF other the write and write and write all the plot bunnies that came to mind). And then found it again. I happen to like this one more then the second one- which I don't remember what it is about, believe it or not. Lol.

So tell me what you think. As always, more words then 'it sucks' or 'great' would be nice, but not necessary, ideas are always welcome, and… well that's it. Oh- if it comes to me I might rewrite the last one- I really just didn't enjoy it like this one.

Review!


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